


Sorry

by EveryMomentStronger



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Aang (Avatar) Needs a Hug, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Avatar Aang (Avatar), Gen, How Do I Tag, Hurt Zuko (Avatar), I have no idea what I'm doing, I need him to realize how much Iroh loves him, Iroh (Avatar) is a Good Uncle, My First AO3 Post, Nightmares, No Beta, Ozai (Avatar) is an Asshole, Protective Katara (Avatar), Western Air Temple, Zuko (Avatar) Needs Therapy, Zuko is an Awkward Turtleduck, Zuko's Scar (Avatar), because I only know how to write angst, but he won't in this fic, literally none
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-15 04:35:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28807434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EveryMomentStronger/pseuds/EveryMomentStronger
Summary: There aren't many things that scare Zuko. He is tough enough to take any hit, strong enough to fight any enemy.But Iroh isn't his enemy, and Zuko isn't going to fight him. He's going to kneel and beg for forgiveness, and that scares him more than he will ever admit.Or; Zuko has a nightmare at the Western Air Temple and won't let anyone help him
Relationships: Aang & Katara (Avatar), Aang & Zuko (Avatar), Iroh & Zuko (Avatar), The Gaang & Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 182





	Sorry

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is my first ever fic and I'm only posting it because it's 2am and I'm so sleep deprived my insecurities have dozed off. I changed the tense and POV like ten times and did all my editing in the wee hours of the morning, so if there are any horrible errors in this, please don't hesitate to point them out to me!
> 
> I'm also really not sure what to include as trigger warnings, so if you notice anything warnings are missing, PLEASE let me know! I try not to write anything graphic, but you can never be sure what someone is going to struggle with, so please do be gentle with yourselves and let me know if there's anything you need me to warn or change. TW: cannonical child abuse, self hatred, threatening authority figures

“Uncle… I know you must have mixed feelings about seeing me. But I want you to know… I am so, so sorry, Uncle…”

Zuko’s words catch in his throat. Hot tears trail down his cheeks.

“Please, Uncle, I-”

He freezes as Iroh turns to face him. His uncle’s face is hard and his eyes blaze bright with contempt. Zuko fights not to flinch back, and he feels something inside of him twist.

“You let me down.”

Iroh rises to his feet (has he always been that tall?), and towers over Zuko. The tent floor suddenly feels cold under Zuko’s hands as he flattens himself against the ground.

“I’m sorry-”

“Silence!”

He feels the shout of rejection slam through his body like a physical punch. His heart stutters. The tears are coming faster now, pouring from his eyes. Uncle is a dark silhouette looming above him.

“You have betrayed and disrespected me. You will fight for your honor!”

He knows how this goes. Sweat dripping off his bare skin. Torches glaring in his eyes. That commanding voice:

“Rise and fight, Prince Zuko!”

This is a test, and he’s getting the answer wrong. He was given a command he can’t obey. How can he fight his Firelord? How can he fight his father?

“I am your loyal son!” 

The voices mix and merge. He looks up into a face that is both Uncle Iroh and his father. Uncle/Father sneers.

“You are a filthy traitor. And you are NOT my son.”

He raises a huge hand to the left side of his face – _no no no no please no NOOO!_ –

Katara snapped awake, screams filling her ears.

_Aang!_

She rolled out of bed and staggered as her body jerkily responded, still half-asleep. With one hand, she grabbed her waterskin and uncorked it as she got her legs under her and bolted out of the room. Shrieks were echoing down the hallway.

_Nightmare? Attack? Did Zuko attack him?!_

Katara saw a flash of orange and yellow right before Aang slammed into her chest.

“Zuko!” The monk gasped, grabbing her arm. 

“What did he do?” Katara yelled.

Before Aang could respond, they were bursting through the door to Zuko’s room. Footsteps pounded in the hallway, and suddenly Sokka and Toph skidded into Katara’s back. Inside the room, the firebender arched his back and screamed again, clawing at the air, kicking his blankets away. Aang let go of Katara’s arm to step closer to him.

“Zuko!” He called, “Zuko, wake up!”

Zuko made a choked noise between a sob and a scream. His body thrashed once more, then suddenly went limp. His eyes opened.

“Are you alright?” Aang asked. But Zuko only sobbed again and pulled himself up to huddle against the wall, burying his face in his hands. He was shaking.

“What happened?” Sokka whispered in Katara’s ear.

Katara pressed a hand over her heart and felt it thundering. “Nightmare, I think,” she murmured back. Later, she would be furious with Zuko for the scare he gave her, but right now, the prince looked decidedly like a kicked polar-puppy, and Katara softened in spite of herself. With a sigh, she stepped forward and sank down beside Aang.

“Hey. Are you awake now?”

The firebender managed to nod his head, face still hidden in his arms, shoulders jerking unevenly as he struggled for breath.

“Ok, Zuko, I need you to breathe. In and out.” she commanded. Zuko’s whole body convulsed with effort as he forced himself to take in air.

“S-so-sorry, sorry.”

Katara sat back on her heels and sighed. In her peripheral vision, she saw Toph and Sokka hovering uncertainly in the doorway, wide-eyed and holding each other.

“Go back to bed,” she ordered softly. “Aang and I will handle this.”

Sokka gave the room a long look before nodding to Katara and leading Toph away. Aang scooted closer to Zuko.

“Are you alright, Zuko? Do you want water? Oh, or tea? Or maybe more blankets? When I was having bad nightmares right before the invasion-”

“Stop.” Zuko’s voice was like rocks rubbing together. “Leave me alone.”

Aang sighed again and settled himself for comfortably on the floor. For a moment, Katara was suddenly reminded that her goofty twelve-year-old friend is actually a hundred-year-old monk with the weight of the world on his shoulders. His voice was so soft and earnest she felt something in her own heart tug.

“You don’t have to be alone now, Zuko. That’s what friends are for. That’s what the team is for. If you really want me to, I’ll go, but… you should know that you don’t have to deal with nightmares by yourself.”

Quiet stretched through the night for a few breaths before Zuko heaved a sigh and lifted his head from his arms. Katara swallowed a gasp. His whole face was wet and red from crying, and his eyes were bloodshot, but there was actual _blood_ running down Zuko’s face and dripping off his chin. Deep scratches covered the left side of his face, bright crimson trailing over faded red. His lips curled into a grimace and he stood stiffly, avoiding their eyes and ignoring Aang’s horrified cry.

“I’m going to meditate. Come find me when you’re ready to start training.”

Katara could feel Zuko still shaking as he pushed by her and disappeared through the doorway, leaving them alone in a room heavy with the smell of sweat and blood. Aang turned to search her face, mouth working but no sound coming out, grey eyes wide and haunted. She shook her head and opened her arms. Aang wasted no time before curling into her and letting his tears fall.

“I just want to help, Katara, but I don’t know how. I can’t fix…”

His voice trailed off, and she felt the weight of everything he didn’t say. He was just a kid, but here he was, trying to fix Zuko. Trying to fix the war. Trying to fix the whole world. Katara suddenly realized that she is crying, too, and she didn’t know quite who she was crying for. Maybe for Aang. Maybe Zuko. Maybe the war, and the whole world.

Zuko wasn’t sure who he was crying for either. He thought maybe himself, but that thought made him snarl and slap the tears from his face with a too-hot palm. He has no right to be sorry for himself, not after what he’d done to Iroh, not after he had ruined everything. He wasn’t allowed to be sad, or scared, or lonely. He wasn’t allowed to run away from his uncle’s rejection, even in his dreams. He deserved it. He’d always deserved it.

(Iroh had always said that he didn’t deserve it, that it wasn’t his fault, and it had made the knots inside of him loosen a little bit.)

Snarling, Zuko shook his head to chase the thoughts away. Too much dwelling on the past, too much letting himself cave to his feelings, that had always been the problem. He dropped hard to his knees on the temple stone and let the jarring pain shoot through him and ground him. He coiled his body into a rigid sieza and ignited a flame in his hand, and refused to flinch away from it even though he shook with the effort.

(Uncle’s flames had always been gentle. Those first months on the ship, when Zuko couldn’t stand the sight of his own flames, Uncle had made him tea and wrapped him in warm hugs and found ways to make his fire something that he could trust.)

Zuko made his flame bigger and brighter until it burned the memories away. And if he ended up using more fire to meditate than was strictly traditional, well, there was no one there to notice anyway. He was alone.

It was well after sunrise, and Aang still hadn’t showed up for training. Nor had Katara appeared to make sure he wasn’t planning an ambush, or taking off to report them to the Fire Nation, or whatever she thought he was up to. Reluctantly, the firebender extinguishes his flames and stands up. He can’t feel the scratches on his scarred cheek, but he had woken up to screaming and blood under his fingernails enough times to know they were there. He stalked around the outer edge of the air temple until he found an old fountain with reasonably clear water and splashed it on his face. The water was surprisingly refreshing, and he dunked his whole head for a minute before emerging to firebend his hair dry.

Feeling somewhat better, and slightly hungry now that he’d been awake for hours, Zuko trekked back to the group’s makeshift campsite. As he’d hoped, Katara was leaning over a campfire, stirring something that smelled like breakfast.

“Sparky’s back!” Toph announced loudly from her seat on Appa’s foreleg. Instantly, all the kids whirled to stare at him, and Zuko felt himself die a little inside as Aang leaped up and flew over for a hug.

Zuko stopped him before the hug could reach him with a firm hand in his chest. He glared at the little monk and mustered his most annoyed growl.

“Where were you? You were supposed to come get me to start training!”

Aang’s face visibly dropped, and Katara bristled in the corner of his eye. The rest of the group eyed him with a mix of caution and… was that pity? Ugh. He had just finished cramming his own feelings away, he was not about to deal with that from the rest of them. He scowled hard and pushed Aang a little bit. He pretended not to see the wounded look in the younger boy’s eyes. Katara was glaring back at him, but she was holding out a bowl of rice nonetheless. Zuko snatched it away from her and reminded himself that he did actually put up with pity, if it was the type that gave him extra food.

“Twenty hotsquats. Now!” He grumbled at Aang through a mouthful of food as he found a place to sit as far away from the rest of the group as he thought he could get away with. Aang sighed loudly but dropped into a hotsquat with reasonably good form, so Zuko left him alone about it. The monk’s attitude didn’t matter, the water peasants’ pity didn’t matter, his own nagging guilt didn’t matter until ~~Fath~~ \- the Firelord was defeated and the war was ended. Then they could rest.

(They could all rest, except for him. He would go to find Uncle Iroh and apologize, and accept any punishment he deemed necessary. He would kneel and say “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean it, I am your loyal nephew,” and he would let the flames fall where they may.)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments are appreciated (but please be gentle because I am timid and full of self-loathing *fingerguns*)


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